


Lay your hands on me

by bittenbullet



Category: Kingsman: The Secret Service (2015)
Genre: Alive! Harry, Angst, Awkward Kissing, BAMF Women, Fix-It, Fluff, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Multi, Other, Plot, Romance, Slow Build, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-12
Updated: 2015-07-12
Packaged: 2018-04-08 23:51:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,441
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4325598
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bittenbullet/pseuds/bittenbullet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Eggsy moves in with Harry.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lay your hands on me

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally Chapter 2 of _Harry Hart is not a pug person_ (http://archiveofourown.org/works/4086937), but Grass said it would be better off as a separate fic. As usual, she was right. So here we are. Sorry if it looks familiar.

Of all the ways Eggsy had entertained getting into Harry Hart’s bed (and he had a very active imagination, thank you very much), concussed and homeless and in agony had not been one of them.

“Fuck,” Eggsy said, blinking away tears as the world came into focus in tiny, maddening increments. “My head hurts.”

“Not surprising, considering your entire house fell on top of you while you were asleep in bed,” Merlin said placidly, tapping his iPad, his eyes on the screen. “You’re lucky all you have are a broken arm and a concussion.”

“ _Fuck_ ,” Eggsy repeated, with more feeling. “My house is gone?”

“Generally when a house collapses, you have to rebuild it from scratch,” Merlin said. “So yes, you can safely say it’s gone.”

Hearing it was akin to taking a sucker punch in the gut. Eggsy’s house might be small, but it was _his_. After joining the Kingsman agency, he had bought an old house near Harry’s, a kind of fixer-upper. He had torn down the moldy wallpaper with his own hands and repainted the walls all by himself. Picking out buckets of paint and rolling down the supermarket aisle in a shopping cart with Roxy and Daisy had been one of his fondest memories. Three months ago, right after Eggsy’s birthday, his mum had joked he wasn’t getting laid because of her: a twenty-nine year old should not have his mother living with him in his bachelor pad. Waving off his protests, she had taken Daisy and moved in with her boyfriend, a very nice chap named George. So they weren’t living in his house when the shit hit the fan. 

With a small yip, JB pawed at Eggsy’s uninjured side and burrowed his face in the covers until all Eggsy could see of the pug was his butt. Everybody was safe. Thank god for small mercies. 

“Why are we in Harry’s house?” Eggsy asked. He recognized the guest room. He had slept there for two weeks after the Valentine incident, back when he thought Harry was dead. Eggsy had been sorely tempted to stay in Harry’s room, but it felt like a massive invasion of privacy. Plus, it would have hurt too much.

“Because the hospital room is currently occupied by Percival. Harry lives nearest to you, and he has a wide range medical supplies,” Merlin said, as if it was perfectly obvious. “And Eggsy, I’m sorry, but I need to reset the bones in your arm. Harry went back to the headquarters to report on your injuries. He won’t be long.”

“Okay,” Eggsy said woodenly. “Do your worst. I don't care anymore.”

“You won’t feel a thing,” Merlin promised. 

Famous last words.

*

It wasn’t until much, _much_ later did Eggsy realize Merlin had given him a healthy dose of laughing gas to numb the pain.

At the moment, he just couldn't give a shit. He felt amazing, like he was floating on a happy cloud made entirely of stardust and rainbows and puppies. Everything was bright and colorful, swirling in delicious spirals in front of his eyes. Throwing back his head, Eggsy giggled out loud. He couldn’t help it. Through the haze of colors, Roxy’s face swam into view, relieved and affectionate. He felt the firm, reassuring squeeze of small soft hands on his, and without thinking about it, squeezed back in return.

“Hello Eggsy,” Harry said. He sounded very far away. “How do you feel?”

“ _Hiiiii,_ ” Eggsy said, dragging out the word long and slow like a piece of molten taffy. He could feel his mouth spreading into a wide, stupid grin. “I’m all doped up on meds. It’s great, I’m great, everything is just fantastic. My house is gone. _Poof,_ just like magic. Or maybe a _boom_ , because it was fucking loud.” Long fingers touched Eggsy’s cheek, and he turned his head to nuzzle into a warm, callused palm, inhaling deeply. “I like it and I should put a ring on it,” Eggsy declared. The fingers withdrew immediately, and he tried to chase them back with his mouth, but his head refused to cooperate. Stupid, heavy head. “Wait. This hand is single, right? Or is it not? Am I committing phalanges adultery? Sorry, sorry, I think I’m sprouting out whatever shit comes into my head, but my brain might be a little bit off today.”

“It is,” Roxy said. She sounded like she was trying very hard not to laugh. “Oh, it _so_ is. You just molested Harry’s hand and proposed to it by quoting Beyoncé lyrics, and I have the whole sordid evidence on my iPhone. I’m going to play it back for you when you’re not high as a kite.”

“Please don’t,” Harry said. “Eggsy, would you like to stay with me until you find another suitable accommodation?”

“I wanna go home with the person those fingers are attached to,” Eggsy said firmly. They were very kissable fingers. He wanted to put his mouth on those fingers.

“You’re definitely staying then,” Roxy said. 

Eggsy beamed. “Okay.”

“You are such a dope,” Roxy said, sounding fond. Fingers carded through his hair soothingly, again and again and again, until his vision blurred out at the edges and faded into black.

 

*

 

The next morning, Eggsy woke up to the smell of eggs and the burn of mortification as the previous night’s events hit him like the disaster train it was. His house was gone, his family still had no idea what he did for a living, and he had tried to snog the living daylights out of Harry’s palm.

_Fuck._

Eggsy shuffled out of bed, wincing slightly as the movement jarred his sling. Throwing a cardigan over his shoulders, he padded down to the kitchen to find Harry with his back to him, cooking breakfast. With the exception of lack of shoes, Harry was impeccably dressed. JB trailed after Harry everywhere he went, tongue lolling out, face expectant. Eggsy didn’t understand why until Harry dropped a strip of bacon in a small red dog bowl by the dishwasher. JB inhaled it and doggedly shadowed Harry’s feet again, silently waiting for more food to fall from the sky. Eggsy wanted very badly to laugh. Then he remembered the calluses in Harry’s hand under his lips and froze up in horror all over again.

Harry turned and caught Eggsy hovering uncertainly at the door.

“Good morning, Eggsy,” Harry said, plating an omelette and setting it down on the kitchen table, as if nothing was out of the ordinary. When Eggsy tried to apologize, Harry handed him a coffee. When Eggsy apologized again, Harry handed him cutlery. When Eggsy made a third attempt, Harry sighed and took a seat opposite him at the table.

“It’s alright, Eggsy,” Harry said, scraping a hand over his face. He looked exhausted. “You were under the influence of drugs.”

“Yeah, but I was way out of line,” Eggsy said, his face burning. 

Harry gave him a small, tired smile. 

“Look, Eggsy. I’m not angry. And you shouldn’t be embarrassed. Someone attacked you in your own home. They are the ones to blame for everything that followed. We should focus all of our negative emotions on them. It would be more productive, don’t you think?”

“Yeah,” Eggsy said, because what Harry said made sense, kind of. “Okay.”

“I have to report back to the headquarters today. Will you be alright on your own?” Harry stood up and pushed back his chair. “There is leftover salmon angel hair in the green plastic container in the fridge, and fresh orange juice and milk. Oh, and there’s a fresh batch of marble brownies in the oven. The metal mugs are still very hot, so please remember to use oven mitts if you want to eat them now.”

“I’m not a kid, Harry,” Eggsy said, trailing after him like a lost puppy. 

“I do hope not,” Harry said. Eggsy watched him bend down to pick up his briefcase and slide his feet into his oxfords, the thin material of his trousers stretching over his backside in a very distracting way. “Though it would come in handy if you got a growth sprout.”

“Oi, you. Are you calling me short?” Eggsy demanded, pulling his eyes away from Harry’s ass. 

“Height is a subjective thing,” Harry said. He smiled to himself, Eggsy’s indignant protests following him out as the front door swung shut. 

Harry got into his car, took a deep breath, and pressed his forehead against his steering wheel.

“We’re going to find out whoever did this,” Harry said out loud, even though there was no one around to hear. “And then, we’re going to kill him.”

**Author's Note:**

> This has been largely rewritten so it will take some time to upload later chapters. Please bear with me. Also, I wrote the smut chapter before writing the rest of the fic *hides face in hands in shame* So. Smut is coming.


End file.
